


far away, long ago

by wearethewitches



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Accidental Plot, Accidental Worldbuilding, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confusion, Consequences, Dark Magic, Episode: s02e13 The Big Freeze, F/F, Family Bonding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Magic, Magic Mirrors, Magical Artifacts, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Possession, Secret Marriage, Sickfic, Useless Lesbians, Witches, Wives, Worldbuilding, oh yes the angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15838965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: The truth is unearthed and Hecate 'useless lesbian' Hardbroom is extremely unequipped to deal with actually being married to Pippa Pentangle...seemingly, for the last thirty years without her knowledge.But things are about to get worse at Cackle’s Academy, as those who were frozen by the Magical Frost suffer the consequences and a mysterious illness sweeps through the student body, quarantining all the witches within the castle. Can Hecate and Pippa work together to discover the truth of their union and more importantly, can those affected by the Frost be saved in time?-/keanona maybe-marriage au, bc keanu reeves and winona ryder apparently don't know if they were legally married to each other in another country 26 years ago./





	1. Chapter 1

When the ice has melted, Cackle’s is slightly flooded. The floor is slippery in places and in the basement levels...well, Mildred knows there’s a reason that the whole entire school has been recruited to empty out the floor of paperwork and furniture, but she can’t quite remember what it was.

“Paperwork’s important,” Maud tells her, when she asks, “If you need to find something out from ages and ages ago-”

“Like when I tried to find out if there’d been any other Hubble’s that went to Cackle’s?” Mildred interrupts to ask, having a lightbulb moment as she lifts up the end of a trunk, grimacing as she feels her shirt get even wetter from leaning down. “Enid, can you help me with this?”

“Sure!” Enid says from across the room, gleefully splashing Felicity and Dawn as she bounds through the waist-deep water. Their schoolmates shriek and there’s a minute where everyone begins splashing - even Maud. But Mildred still has one end of the trunk and when she laughs, reaching across the water to splash Maud in the face, the trunk tips, over-balancing.

Focus snapping back to her load, Mildred can’t correct her mistake in time for the old hinges to give way, the lid opening up _underwater_. Mildred’s pitying moan, loud and unfortunately recognisable among her peers, causes the water-fight to end abruptly as the contents of the trunk slide out neatly to the bottom of the basement-sea.

“Millie, what have you done?” Maud squeaks, Enid not even hesitating before dropping to her knees, head disappearing under the rippling ocean that is inhabiting their school. Mildred watches her gather up as much stuff as she can, pushing the trunk back around. Guessing her next plan, Mildred readjusts her grip, lifting the trunk up as Enid gets the other end as originally planned, the two girls hauling the trunk up onto a nearby desk. The waterline is still an inch or two above the trunk bottom, but it’s enough.

“There’s still stuff at the bottom,” Felicity points out worriedly, “Oh, I hope we won’t get in trouble for this.”

“We just don’t tell anyone,” Enid says, diving back down. She gathers the remaining items, but just as she comes up again, depositing them on the table, Mildred spies something shining with magic. It glimmers gold, like the shine of underwater treasure and – thinking that _perhaps_ with how splashed she is, she could afford to dunk under to get it – Mildred takes a deep breath, retrieving it as quickly as she can.

The water is lukewarm, but colder as she leans down, hand skirting through a freezing current before it clamps around what turns out to be some kind of heavy jewellery box that isn’t as shiny as she originally thought – there’s a shard of mirror on top, broken. Squinting, Mildred sees what looks like a key and swiftly changes her mind as she brings it up out of the water, plaits dripping as she straightens. She peers curiously.

“What is it, Mildred?” Enid questions, already using a drying spell on the items she’d retrieved, one at a time.

“A music box, I think,” Mildred says, shaking off the excess water before holding it on her palm, other hand aiming carefully. “ _Soggy, dewy, damp and drippy, make this thing less soaked and drizzly!_ ”

Her magic shoots up inside her, coalescing around the unpolished music box to fling the magical water outwards. Mildred wrinkles her nose as she’s splattered on the face, wiping her nose before she turns the shiny golden key.

“I wouldn’t, Milly,” Maud warns, “What if it’s enchanted?”

“It’s just a box,” Mildred murmurs, before letting go of the key. It turns immediately, the circular mirror set on top shimmering before the box clicks. In Mildred’s hand, the sides of the box open out in a star shape, the shard of mirror sinking down as tiny runes on the star points glow. The key moves upwards, turning in a circle around the mirror, causing the air above it to shimmer.

“Oh!” Dawn exclaims gently, Mildred’s eyes widening as the space in front of her face starts to shift, like smoke or mist. Two figures form, the image moving around the room and the two teenage witches that appear laugh faintly, grinning ear to ear, dancing to imaginary music, hands clasped together as they spin and spin. They look like they’re having _fun_ and there’s something familiar about them both, to Mildred – it’s on the tip of her tongue.

They come closer to her, standing back over the music box – which hasn’t played any music yet – standing still. Mildred strains to look closer, but the colours are barely there. One is blonde as day, the other with hair dark as night, pulled back in a blue ribbon. The dark-haired witch lets go of the blonde’s hands, instead cupping her cheeks and kissing her lips softly, kneeling in front of her.

 _“Hiccup, what are you doing?”_ the blonde witch asks, her voice faint but still audible. The other witch who must be her girlfriend pulls her down to join her on the ground.

“ _I want to be with you forever. I love so you, dearest._ ”

“ _Sweetie…you mischievous witch, what are we going to do?_ ” the blonde says and it’s obvious she’s perfectly willing, scooting closer. “ _We’ve already spelled our entire night to the mirror._ ”

The dark-haired witch talks more, then, but Mildred can’t hear her, the sound completely failing, the misty image even fading, cracking right in the middle.

“What is this?” Mildred asks Maud, barely taking her eyes off the witch, who looks to be rambling now, enthusiastic, hands waving about wildly.

“I don’t know,” Maud says and by now, Mildred’s classmates are all near, huddled around her, watching the silent image. Suddenly, however, the sound returns, louder and clearer than before.

“ _-magic to magic, suchlike things. Just copy me. Do you promise?”_

 _“Only if you do the performance with me,”_ the blonde says, tugging at the V of her girlfriend’s neckline. The dark-haired witch narrows her eyes, leaning forwards to steal a kiss.

Enid snorts, “She doesn’t want to do that performance.”

“ _Don’t play coy,_ ” the blonde says when they part, giggling, “ _Please, my sweet lady. I’ll pay you back two-fold…_ ”

“ _I’m not fond of accepting bribes,_ ” says the other, “ _but…perhaps. Yes. I agree. Now, marry me by magic, P-_ ” the sound cuts off again, making the group of girls make varied noises of annoyance, Felicity actually whining.

“She proposed! Oh, I know what they’re going to do, this is _adorable._ Only the Old Witches did this – it’s fallen _so_ out of fashion.”

“What are they doing?” Mildred asks, watching as the two witches kiss and laugh, the dark-haired one reaching over to something that isn’t in the image, returning with a potions knife. Mildred jerks as she cuts their palms, holding them together tightly, droplets falling away into nothingness. “Why did they do _that?_ Sharing blood is _dangerous._ ”

“Yes, it is,” Maud frowns, looking at Felicity. “What _are_ they doing?”

“It was more popular in America,” Felicity says excitedly, “Witches used to get married in moonlight, under the Goddess’ gaze. They spilt blood into the ground and then shared it, so- look!”

Mildred looks. The witches, even in the misty image, seem to glow. The box grows warm in her hand as the very presence of their magic seems to seep out of it. Mildred shudders, feeling it brush against her own in such a _strange_ but _good_ way.

“They must have been pretty powerful,” Felicity whispers, shivering slightly. “This must be a memory.”

“They recorded it in the mirror and this is a shard,” Maud says, deducing the most likely explanation, “so this must be a part of their original recording. That’s why it’s so fragmented – it’s not the entire thing.”

The witches say things to each other, resting their heads together before removing their hands from the others, wiping it on the ground beside them. They kiss each other again and then the mist fades, the key slowing to a halt before returning to its original space, the sides of the box folding inwards, the shard rising once more.

“I wonder whose things these are,” Enid twists back around, rummaging through the things she’s dried. Mildred peers inside the open trunk, seeing lots of dark dresses, a faded purple scarf emblazoned with an unfamiliar school crest, outdated books, broken quills and a bundle of blue ribbons. Maud reaches past them both, picking up one of the books and opening the front pages.

“This book is a first edition herbalists guide,” Maud says in wonder, suddenly holding the book like it’s precious. “And we got it _wet._ ”

“If it’s a herbalists guide, it’s probably been splattered with worse things than water,” Mildred argues for the sake of it, stuffing the box in her pocket before picking up another book, checking for places people usually wrote their names. There’s no name, but however, there _are_ notes. She pages through the book, eyeing the blotchy handwriting that edits and corrects as it goes. “Maud, that might not be worth as much as you think.”

“Why?” Maud asks, Enid spying the edits in Mildred’s book with a cackle.

“They wrote in their books!” Enid exclaims happily, Maud immediately looking through, sounding sad at seeing the corrections. Mildred is frowning though.

“There’s something familiar about this handwriting,” Mildred says, frustrated, “I can’t think…”

“Let me see,” Enid takes it from her, eyes scanning the old pages. Mildred forces herself to take her eyes off the scrawl to look in the trunk again. The ribbons catch her eyes – they’re a blue that is so very _bright_ and Mildred thinks that maybe, this trunk belonged to the dark-haired witch in the memory-box. She reaches out, taking the bundle, playing with it. _She isn’t using them,_ Mildred thinks.

No sooner had she tucked them in her pocket, however, the water around their waists started to drain. Spinning around in a circle, Mildred watches all the water disappear out the corridor, nearly tipping Dawn over before Felicity catches her.

“Oh, they finally figured it out,” Maud sighs, smiling. Mildred gives her own grin. The ice had been black-spot ice, so the water had resisted all form of magical banishment – up until now, that is.

“Maybe they found a sewer!” Enid offers, before spelling them all dry, proud of her quick mastery of the spell. All the droplets that push off them all join the rushing river that disappears into the corridor, leaving only the bottoms of their boots wet. “Let’s go!”

The young witches all rush out of the corridor – Mildred forgetting all about the memory-box in her pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

Ada is sorting through paperwork. To be more specific – the staff paperwork. As headmistress, it’s her duty and sole responsibility to take care of it. Not even Hecate can touch these water-logged pieces of parchment.

Rewriting them and transferring the magical record-signature is tedious, but Ada has taken the morning to organise the most relevant paperwork pertaining to the still-living former staff. It hard on her wrists, but interesting as Ada can remember most of the teachers whose files she’s reading. Some of it makes her giggle and some of it makes her gasp, learning how her old chanting teacher eloped with the ward-keeper and that Ms Moss had left in her fourth year because her wife passed away.

The magic of records in this magical world of theirs is simple, but detailed. Schools especially, possibly the most important of institutions barring the national Magic Council’s and the International Conglomerate of Witches and Wizards, are exceptional record-keepers. Why, Cackle’s Academy even has self-updating records – making the security requirements quite high, of course, which is the reason only Ada can deal with them now.

At lunchtime, Ada has a short break, Algernon and Gwen joining her for a cup of tea afterwards while she tries to read running ink from more recent of staff files.

“Miss Hardbroom and Dimity will be trying a different method, in the afternoon,” Algernon informs her, “I remembered something from my frog days at the last minute about the ponds. They should be able to drain the water into them once they rescue the wildlife. Dimity was going to recruit the sixths years, I believe.”

Ada frowns, wondering what the effect of magic-nulling water would be on the surrounding area. Certainly, it’s a good idea to move the local animals and plants, if they want to keep their magical properties, but what of the woods around Cackle’s? If the melted magical frost took root in the ground, there could be irreparable damage to the magical conduits around the mountain.

“Perhaps we could make more attempts to take the girls to Hollow Wood, now that it’s clearly not so dangerous,” Gwen offers, thoughts obviously heading in the same direction and coming up with a solution.

“Things are changing,” Ada says, grave. The Magic Council has yet to send an investigator, though Ada expects one within the next week. As a precaution, they’d disbarred any student from using the Mirror Booth or mag-net until the weekend and taken the fifth and sixth year girls aside this morning, talking of the severity of the situation the ward them off using their own private means of communication to tell their parents immediately. Everything about the situation makes Ada ache for the _usual_ school problems. Panicking graduate witches, Enid Nightshade blowing up a potion in her room, first years feeling homesick…

“Can we help you with anything here, Ada?” Algernon asks generously, eyeing the stacks upon stacks of paperwork she has to recreate.

“Unfortunately, this can only be done by me as Headmistress,” Ada smiles sadly at the older wizard. “But thank-you. If it’s not too much trouble, could you supervise the girls once they go back to emptying the basement? I’m sure Hecate and Dimity would appreciate the support.”

“Of course, though perhaps you, my love-” Algernon looks to Gwen “-you could help them. I can handle the students on my own. You’ve been on your feet all morning.”

Gwen smiles at him, besotted. “I was feeling a little tired. An afternoon nap…” she smiles wistfully and Ada can’t help the upwards quirk of her lip. _Gwen knows what she’s doing next,_ she thinks with a small chuckle.

The two staff members vacate her office soon and Ada is left alone with only Pendle for company. Her familiar jumps up onto her desk, looking for a stroke. Ada gladly gives the cat his due, rubbing behind his ears before he goes back to curling up on the nearby armchair in a patch of sun.

“Yes, you get comfortable,” Ada shakes her head, going through a relatively new, but old teacher file – a Miss Elouise Gimlett, now _Ms_ Gimlett, partnered to another witch by the name of Charmian Nightingale, who did her student-teacher session at Cackle’s some ten years ago. _Spell-science professor,_ Ada reads, eyebrows riding at the updated term. While the files were usually self-updating, they only updated with pertinent information such as state of living, professional rank, marital status and qualifications.

“What do you think, Pendle?” Ada questions her familiar. “‘Professor’ – did she go on to teach at a post-witchery institute or simply earn it through exceptional experience?” It’s certainly an interesting question, one Ada might follow up on if Algernon expresses a wish to retire.

Ada goes through more and more files and eventually, in the later half of the afternoon, she hears the scampering of the girls running through the halls, a message on her maglet chiming. Picking it up, Ada finds a message from Hecate informing her of the safe and most importantly, _contained_ drainage of the magical water into the back-garden pond that Mildred Hubble had – more than once – found herself landing in.

 _What a coincidence that Hecate might send me a message when I’m going through her file,_ Ada muses, sending a happy reply, congratulating them. Assured of the lack of flooding, Ada returns to said file, scanning the contents lazily.

Hecate’s file is bulkier than most. She always meticulously fills out forms, so it’s far from surprising, but some of the information surprises Ada, still. Things like her siblings – Ada knew she had six siblings, but seeing them listed reveals to her that Hecate’s mothers were extremely determined to name their children after Greek Titans; how Hecate had numerous publications and awards in both the Potions League and the Duelling Circle, critiquing _and_ educating; and then there’s her athletics history! Frankly, Ada is disappointed Hecate has never mentioned her _extremely interesting life_ to her! _Her! Ada! Hecate’s best friend!_

Ada _never_ would have guessed that Hecate was a professional skyball player between her years with Mistress Broomhead and time at Cackle’s – though, if Ada remembers correctly, Hecate didn’t join her staffing until she was thirty. A quick glance at her file shows that to be true.

However, Ada regrets having a sip of her tea in that same moment, for when her eyes slip upwards to the last ‘pertinent details’ section before her employment history, Ada nearly chokes, _sure_ her eyes are deceiving her.

“The ink-” Ada splutters to herself, stuttering, “the ink must have- it _must_ have.”

Because surely, _surely_ Hecate would have mentioned in her twenty years of friendship with Ada that she was _married;_ and not only that, but to-

“No.”

Ada shakes her head viciously.

“ _No_ , it must be wrong.”

Ada shuts Hecate’s file, certain it must be an effect of the melted frost. She sets it to the side, to get back to later, when the magic has settled, determined to finish rewriting other teachers’ files. Miss Mould’s, Dimity’s, Gwen, Algernon’s – even Miss Tapioca! But the file haunts her, sitting to the side _just_ in view, the corner always there in her line of sight.

“It can’t be true,” Ada says to an empty office once the rest of the past two centuries’ filing is done, the last-class bell ringing to signal the half-hour wait until dinner. A sense of foreboding fills her as she drags Hecate’s file across the desk, her fingers aching from all day writing and her magic straining. Her bones still feel cold, her chest chilly – she can’t imagine what Hecate herself must be feeling, though Hecate has more magic than most. Perhaps she’s regenerated her stores faster than Ada has. Morgana knows the girls who were frozen seem to be fine.

 _Children bounce back,_ Ada thinks, staring at the file. Her thoughts breeze by, stuck on that one section of the file. _I need to copy this file. I can’t simply let it sit here, soggy and running._ The magic of it yearns, reaching out, clever enough the recognise what needs to be done. _I’ll write the rest of the file out and leave the marital status blank_.

“Anything done to the file by the water will…will fade,” Ada mumbles, nervous, “and anything wrong that magic Knows will correct itself.”

_Marital status including. Hecate, what happened?_

When the bell rings again half an hour later, Ada resists the urge to stand, her stomach rumbling but her mind tumbling. Her finger brushes against the filled space where the words wrote themselves out once she’d transferred the record-signature.

A knock brings Ada out from her thoughts sharply. She looks up, hesitating only a moment before calling, “Come in!”

The door opens slowly and for a strange moment Ada thinks that Hecate is outside, that Hecate knows what Ada has seen – but a dark blonde head pops around the corner.

“Miss Cackle?” Esmerelda Hallow greets, subdued, “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” Ada puts on a concerned face, closing Hecate’s file. “What’s the matter, Esme?”

Esme enters, shutting the door behind her. She’s dressed in the same clothes she came to Cackle’s in the day before, hair pinned back away from her face with magic. The sight of it reminds Ada starkly that Esme has magic again and more importantly, that by all rights Esme should not be here.

“My parents,” Esme hits on the issue immediately, “My mother projected herself to Sybil before dinner, asking if she’d seen me. Sybil lied, said I’d visited yesterday and had gone to stay with a friend because I felt trapped in the house.”

“She _lied?_ ” Ada questions, surprised. Esme nods, coming to sit across from her, practically falling into the armchair. “That’s unlike Sybil.”

“I know. She didn’t- she didn’t even hesitate,” Esme swallows nervously, “She told me after that she’d practiced, in case it happened. She didn’t want me to leave. What do I do, Miss Cackle? My mother obviously didn’t know what happened to the school.”

Anxiety stirs in Ada’s stomach. “I’ll be sending out a message to all the parents,” she says slowly, knowing it’s what she has to do. “Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be sending a report to the Magic Council and that evening…one to the parents.”

Esme gives a pained smile. “When most of them will be asleep?”

Ada matches her expression. “Indeed. Until then, you’re welcome to stay, Esme, but if either of your parents contact me, I won’t fib. Sybil is young and while she may have indirectly helped by giving me more time, this situation will not be good for the Academy.”

“How, Miss Cackle?” Esme questions and Ada wants to tell her, but only a single look at the young witch stops her – for she is that, _young._ Esme should not be burdened by the knowledge that Ada’s Academy may be on the brink of closure once more after the Magic Council are informed. What Mildred Hubble did – and what Miss Mould finished – should never have even been a possibility, let alone a reality.

 _Am I even fit to run this school?_ Ada thinks in distress. _Everything I do makes things worse, both by action and inaction._

As if sensing her turmoil, Hecate then materialises, magic reaching up through the castle to transport her to Ada’s side.

“What-” her friend begins to question, before she sees Esme. “Ah. Miss Hallow.”

“Miss Hardbroom,” Esme sits up straighter, so respectful of her favourite teacher.

Hecate glances between them, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Esme says, before Ada can answer. She gets up, taking a moment to stroke Pendle as he once more jumps onto the desk. “I’ll go to dinner. Thank-you, Miss Cackle.”

“Any time, Esme,” Ada gives her a small nod, watching her leave.

“What was it?” Hecate asks her, once the door shuts. “I could feel your worry.”

Ada reaches up, pressing a hand to Hecate’s wrist. “Everything. It’s not for nothing that I worry – but I can put it out of mind until tomorrow.” Hecate doesn’t look like she believes her and Ada doesn’t blame her, instead deciding to change the subject. “Actually, there is one matter that has bothered me, today. It was quite unexpected.”

Hecate stiffens, “What?”

Ada lets her hand drop, sitting back in her chair. “You may want to sit, Hecate. It pertains to you, in truth.”

“Me?” Hecate questions in disbelief, though she does migrate to the armchair that Esme had vacated, across the desk. “What could possibly bother you about _me?_ ”

“I’ve been dealing with confidential files all day,” Ada explains, drawing her chair nearer to the desk, sitting up and turning Hecate’s file around to face the witch in person. “Including yours.”

Hecate’s brows furrow together, a cloud of confusion and wariness taking over her. “What did you read that… _bothered_ you?”

“Well,” Ada says lightly, in an attempt to remove some of the tension in her friend’s shoulders before asking her the ultimate question, “first, you’ve been hiding things. Skyball, Hecate? Really?”

Immediately, Hecate’s posture changes and all forms of seriousness leave her. She even snorts, leaning back against the armchair. “Really, Ada? You’re interested in my _sports_ history?”

“It’s good blackmail against you for arguments with Dimity,” Ada jokes, Hecate rolling her eyes – both of them know anything Ada learns from confidential documents cannot leave her mouth without magical consequences, if the documented person in question hasn’t agreed to it. Ada’s levity leaves her, however, when she opens it up, seeing that _name_ written beside _Marital Status._ “Hecate, I’m not sure whether or not this is something you’ve deliberately avoided telling me, but it is quite important if it’s wrong or something you’re…unaware of.”

 _If she **is** unaware,_ Ada thinks grimly, theorising on the spot, _then this matter is more serious than I am imagining._

“What?” Hecate frowns, nose scrunching up as she leans forwards, perusing her own file. There are several seconds of silence before Ada sees when Hecate finds the section in question. Her eyes lock on the words, widening suddenly. “ _What?_ ” she exclaims, completely shocked. “What- Ada, I- _Ada,_ ” Hecate stresses her name, completely devoid of any form of recognition.

In her chest, Ada’s heart skips a beat and in her head, she thinks: _if Hecate Hardbroom doesn’t know, does Pippa Pentangle?_


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, rather unusually Mildred wakes up with the sun. It peaks through her window and she’s already awake, idly wondering if there’s something wrong with her – on a normal day, she’s scrambling to get ready for breakfast and classes. Sometimes, she even misses breakfast because she’s slept in.

“Maybe it’s because I went to bed early,” Mildred speaks to Einstein as she gets up, who sits inside his tank between her bed and her wardrobe.

“Hmm?” he stirs briefly, “What are we talking about?”

Smiling – because quite obviously, both her tortoise and her cat, Tabby dead asleep at the end of her bed – Mildred doesn’t reply, letting him slip back into slumber. Taking advantage of the early hour, Mildred decides to take a shower, returning half an hour later from the shared bathroom to get dressed for the day.

Mildred looks at her clock. _7.17_

“I don’t have any homework, I don’t think,” she mumbles, sitting at her desk. She checks, just in case, but Mildred finished her potions essay yesterday evening, having remembered they had one to hand in for Friday tomorrow. Enid had been mind-boggled at seeing her doing it so early in the week, astonished that she wouldn’t be joining her in a Thursday evening rush to get it done.

 _Well, it’s Thursday, now._ Mildred is rather calm at the thought. Her eyes drift across the room, falling on her crumpled clothes from yesterday. Getting up, she goes over to them, recalling she had some stuff in the pockets. To her own surprise, she pulls out the golden box, laughing at her own forgetfulness.

“The ribbons are in the other pocket,” Mildred remembers as well, taking them out and catching sight of herself in the mirror. She’s worn ribbons in her hair before, but not with her usual plaits. Sybil wears a purple one in her crown braid, sometimes. Mildred looks at her clock again. _7.22_ “I’ve got time,” she tells herself.

It takes many attempts to get the dark blue ribbons to go right. Luckily for her, Mildred has always had deft fingers – she used to be obsessed with braids, when she was little. Her mum even got her a book that would teach her how to make them. Eventually, in lieu of her usual pigtail plaits, Mildred ties her hair up in a ponytail to properly secure two blue ribbons, being careful not to twist them badly as she does a long fishtail braid. It’s a weird weight on the top of her head, the end itching against her collar somewhat, but Mildred looks in the mirror and finds herself happy with it.

When she meets Felicity in the stairwell to go down for breakfast, her friend _oohs_ and _ahhs_.

“It’s so pretty! I love it – where did you get the ribbons? Did your mom send them?”

“I got them from the trunk that I dropped,” Mildred reveals, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Felicity’s eyes widen before she giggles, the two girls making their way into the hall, passing Ethel and Dawn on the way, Dawn sniffing and rubbing at her nose in confusion.

“Oh look, Mildred Hubble did her hair different,” Ethel sneers at them, “What’s the occasion?”

“Shut up, Ethel, I can do my hair the way I like,” Mildred rolls her eyes, ignoring her along with Felicity, only to bump into Esmerelda.

“Oh, sorry Mildred,” Esme greets and she must have let Sybil at her, because similar to Mildred, she rocks a different style this morning, a pink ribbon winding its way through her a pulled-back plait in dark blonde tresses. Smiling, the older girl motions her forwards and they enter the hall for breakfast.

“Do you want to sit with us, Esme?” Felicity questions. “I don’t think Jasmine’s awake, yet.”

“No, she wouldn’t be,” Esme chuckles, getting breakfast and then sitting with them at a table, Mildred scrunching her nose as she tries to remember if she knows who this ‘Jasmine’ is. Eventually, she gives up and asks them, over her porridge.

“Who’s Jasmine?”

“Jasmine Henbane, the head girl,” Felicity answers, “Esme’s best friend.”

Mildred frowns, “How old are you, Esme?”

“I’m sixteen, but I’m younger than everyone else in my year and I take advanced classes,” Esme says happily, Mildred startling at her use of present tense.

“You’re back properly? Is it because you have magic again?”

Esme grins, “I hope so. I’ll be old enough to make my own decisions in January, so my parents can’t stop me.” At the end of her sentence, she wiggles her fingers, tiny stars shooting out of her hands with a soft, golden glow – proof that she has her magic back.

“That’s great!” Mildred exclaims, before Enid slumps down beside her, groaning, head tucking into her crossed arms.

“I want to go back to bed,” she moans. “How are you so cheery?”

“Don’t know,” Mildred says, chipper as she digs into her porridge. It tastes delicious, a rarity in Cackle’s. “I woke up really early today!”

Esme raises an eyebrow, “That’s funny. So did me and my sisters.”

“And me,” Felicity says.

“Huh,” Mildred thinks on that, glancing at Enid. “Where’s Maud?”

“Feeling funky,” Enid grumbles. “She went to see Miss Hardbroom about it. I think I’ve got the same thing. I just want to _sleep._ ”

Mildred stops eating her porridge. “Wait. So, me, Felicity, Esme, Sybil and Ethel all woke up _really_ early and both the two of you are…ill?” There’s something niggling at her brain and it’s only when she sees HB trudging into the hall _on foot_ that it manifests into an actual thought. Mildred stands abruptly, going over to her.

“Mildred?” Esme questions, but Mildred has a one-track mind.

“Miss Hardbroom,” she addresses her, who stops in place, turning slowly to face her.

The teacher straightens only slightly, looking drawn-out and pale, muttering. “Miss Hubble, what could possibly possess you to talk to me before I’ve had tea?”

Noting that in her head – Mildred knows that her mum can be very snappy without her morning tea – she clears her throat, “Are you and Miss Cackle okay, today?”

Frowning slightly, Miss Hardbroom looks at her with more focus. “Miss Cackle is taking the morning to herself for…health reasons. I could be better. Why?”

Mildred takes in a deep breath, “Because everyone who was frozen has woken up strange, today. Maud and Enid are sick-”

“As is Ada,” does Miss Hardbroom murmur.

“-and me and the others, well, we woke up early.”

“Yes,” Esme agrees, drawing up beside her. Miss Hardbroom glances at her, looking back to Mildred a moment later. Then, something odd happens. Red rises in Miss Hardbroom’s cheeks and she shuts her eyes, covering them with a hand like she’s just had an embarrassing thought. Mildred, at a slight loss, exchanges a look with Esme, who in turn makes a face at HB’s odd reaction.

“Right…right,” Miss Hardbroom mutters, lowering her arm. Her cheeks are still pink, but otherwise she is composed as ever. “If you feel unwell today, you have my permission to leave class. Miss Nightshade – I can see you there at the table. Return to your room and sleep. I will check up on you and Miss Spellbody at noon. There are no known records of witches who have recovered from being frozen in a black spot. The rest of you would do well to monitor the condition of both yourself and your fellows’. If anything _odd_ happens, report to my classroom immediately or, in the event that I am indisposed, Miss Drill.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred and Esme say as one, quickly copied by Felicity and Enid, the latter of whom staggers upright and makes her way to the door.

“Esme,” Miss Hardbroom speaks to the older teen, “accompany Miss Nightshade to her room.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” Esme draws away quickly, hand rising to Enid’s upper back in support. Mildred watches her go before sitting back down by Felicity, Miss Hardbroom walking up to the staff table.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Felicity whispers, obviously worried. Mildred shrinks slightly, enthusiasm waning at the prospect that this energy of hers is caused by being frozen.

 _It was so cold,_ she thinks, quiet. No more words are exchanged between the two girls, but when the bell rings and they go off to class together, their hands are linked.

* * *

The day passes and nothing happens, except Dawn being sent to her room when she nearly throws up into her cauldron. Mildred is fine. Felicity is fine. The Hallow siblings are fine. Maud and Enid are stuck in their rooms feeling poorly with slight fevers and presumably, Miss Cackle is the same – only HB shows any sign of strangeness. She doesn’t materialise anywhere and everywhere like normal and when Mildred goes to potions class, she stares at something just behind Mildred.

Mildred has no idea what that ‘something’ is, but it distracts Miss Hardbroom often, when they’re brewing, enough that she catches Mildred making four different mistakes she wouldn’t have normally made, had Maud and Enid not been ill. Miss Hardbroom asks her to stay behind afterwards, closing the door with a wave of her hand.

“You need to stop relying on your friends,” she says firmly, but not unkindly. Mildred looks at the ground. “Miss Hubble- _Mildred._ ”

“Yes?” Mildred bites her lip, fidgeting in place in front of the desk, looking up at the sound of her name.

“I want you to take a book out of the library,” Miss Hardbroom instructs, writing a title on a spare slip of parchment. “Every weekend, I want you to choose any ingredient from that book and I want you to come see me for half an hour to talk about it. It doesn’t matter if it’s an ingredient you’ve already covered or if you’ve never heard of it before, so long as you want to learn about it. You can also take the time to ask me about anything you’re struggling with in class- in _any_ class,” she corrects herself at the last moment. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” says the young witch, before she shakes her head in disagreement with her own answer. “No.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Just…why?” Mildred clenches her fists. “Is it because I’m the bottom of the class?”

“Being bottom of the class is part of it,” Miss Hardbroom admits delicately, “but it’s also because you don’t know these things. All your peers have grown up surrounded by magic – they’re familiar with certain topics and contain an innate understanding of the _why_ , subconsciously, based on childhood tutelage. What I teach is supposed to build on existing knowledge.”

“But I don’t have existing knowledge,” Mildred finishes, soft anger being replaced by that familiar, depressing feeling of _unworthiness_. Even the knowledge that she’s from a witching family can’t compete with it – truthfully, it makes it _worse_ , being aware of her actual heritage. The last Hubble witch was a hero and Mildred can’t even remember the basic properties of a _daisy._

“…I have taken too long to realise that needs to be fixed,” Miss Hardbroom continues. In Mildred’s silence, she speaks. “Come on Sundays at half past seven. We’ll adjust the time if need be and remember – _anything_ about the witching world you feel confused over or need better explanation for, just ask during our session. Your friends cannot provide you all the answers to life, Mildred.”

“But you can?”

“I can certainly try, though apparently, I’m not aware of half the events that happen in my own life,” HB turns red again. “Out. Don’t forget to take that book out of the library.”

Mildred take the slip of paper before she can forget, “Thank-you, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Away,” HB waves her hand, the door creaking open again. Mildred goes to leave, however, her teacher calls out one final question before she leaves her sight. “Mildred?”

Mildred pauses.

Miss Hardbroom waves her hand around – not in the magic way, but the kind of way like you’re trying to point at something without pointing.

“Where did you get the ribbons from? They’re…new.” HB makes a face halfway between fond and bemused. “I had some like those when I was young. They’re packed away somewhere in this old castle.”

“I-” Mildred starts, but stops, taking in her teachers words. _I had some like those when I was young. They’re packed away somewhere in this old castle._ Horror immediately rises up in her chest.

_Oh my god, I’m wearing HB’s ribbons._

“Uh,” she stalls, “They’re…they’re a gift from Sybil. She- she had blue ones, but she doesn’t wear blue.”

Miss Hardbroom makes a face, like she doesn’t _quite_ believe Mildred and the young witch decides to get out of there. Now. Flashing a smile and waving, she practically shouts her goodbye, exiting the classroom at top speed.

_I’M WEARING HB’S RIBBONS!_

She doesn’t know whether to take them out or not. What would Miss Hardbroom do if she found out Mildred had been through her things? That she had _taken_ her things? Hurrying up to the changing rooms for PE, Mildred almost doesn’t realise what else that means.

Mildred had taken HB’s ribbons – but she had also taken that golden box that played a warped memory of a proposal, of two teenagers that in retrospect, _must_ be Miss Hardbroom and someone else. As she realises this, she slows to a halt.

“Oh,” Mildred says simply, rubbing her suddenly itchy nose. _Miss Hardbroom proposed to someone. Who, though?_ Mildred can’t help but immediately jump from one adult to another – Miss Pentangle. It had to be her. _Didn’t HB say her name, her fiancée’s name, in the memory?_

Glancing back towards HB’s classroom, Mildred wonders if she could get away with going to her room. Sniffing, throat suddenly clogged like she’s got a runny nose, Mildred changes direction, going up to her part of the building, up into her tower. What’s quite strange is how she starts sneezing half-way up the spiral staircase, but Mildred’s sure it’ll pass – the castle was just flooded, who knows what’s in the air right now?

Getting to her room, Mildred beelines for the golden box. The mirror shard reflects the afternoon sun and as she turns the key, the box once more opens out into a star shape, the mirror sinking downwards and the key moving in a circle around it. The runes on the star points glow and the image appears. Mildred sits on her bed, watching the teenage girls dance with each other.

The dark haired girl is clearly a younger Miss Hardbroom. Mildred thinks she looks pretty – though, she blushes when she remembers that the blue ribbons in her hair belong to said witch. In the memory, HB wears them all in one big, messy tie to keep her mounds of curly black hair back away from her face – but they don’t work very well, many loose strands out and framing her face. In contrast, the other witch is blonde like the sun and Mildred scrutinises her, trying to be as least biased as possible.

 _It might **not** be Miss Pentangle,_ Mildred thinks, even as she begins to become convinced of that very truth. Their faces aren’t so different – a little rounder, maybe and smaller. Her straight golden hair is only a little past her shoulders, a crown of flowers around her head and one extra one tucked behind her ear.

“It is her,” Mildred decides, unable to help from smiling as HB demands Miss Pentangle to marry her by magic. Sniffing again, wiping her nose, Mildred sits back in bed, watching it over and over.

 _I am a bit tired,_ she thinks, taking a packet of tissues out from her bedside drawer, feeling a little poorly, too. _I might actually be sick._ Unfortunately, just like Dawn, Mildred is just that. Using magic to vanish the mess, Mildred bundles herself under her covers, hoping that this is some kind of witching sickness that’s only around for a few hours. She clutches Miss Hardbroom’s memory box in a vice-grip, Tabby meowing as he comes to join her on her pillow.

“Oh Tabby, I don’t feel well,” she says quietly, sniffing and coughing. “Is this because- because we were fro- _achoo!_ ”


	4. Chapter 4

Silence reigns, except for the birds singing above.

Pippa feels like the very life is being sucked out of her moment by moment. _Magical black-spot._ Her mind is on the children, but yet – _Hecate_. _Hecate was right there in the middle of it. She was frozen, all the magic drained out of her._ Ada, Mildred and her friends, the Hallow girls and _Hecate._

“I’m fed up sending people to that school,” the Grand Wizard says, annoyance leaking out every pore. Pippa’s gaze snaps upwards from the floor to him, offended. She straightens her back, but unwillingly, she grip the pale pink fabric of her long coat tightly, riled up at his disregard. “Supposedly, their educational standards are above board and their teachers are both equipped to handle their pupils and actually care for their well-being. _Why_ do they keep having these dramatic episodes?”

“If there’s anyone to blame,” Pippa starts, voice hard, “then it’s Agatha Cackle. Her Annihilation spell darkened Cackle’s Academy, causing the collapse of their East Wing and the discovery of their Founding Stone.”

“What of the young Ethel Hallow?” his right hand asks, a quiet but trustworthy witch by the name of Lavinia Crotchet who might have been Grand Witch, had the roles been reversed. Blue eyes dart between Pippa and the Grand Wizard. “Not to put the blame on a child, but her actions are far from… _stable_.”

“She got Esmerelda’s magic back,” Ursula Hallow barks in an overly snappish tone. “It’s unnatural for a witch to be without her magic. Ethel did a good deed.”

“Her youngest sister’s life was endangered – the report explicitly states Esmerelda said she would never have gone through with it otherwise,” Pippa reminds Ursula, meeting eyes with the unsavoury witch acting as Egbert’s secretary at this moment. Ursula glares daggers at Pippa, who had been awarded Ursula’s previous position as Head of Witching Education.

Mordreth Ridgeback, the Headmaster of King Arthur’s Preparatory and Head of _Wizarding_ Education clears his throat. “Let’s not argue over the motivations of witches yet to reach their majority. What does the Council do in this situation?”

“Send someone to validate the report,” the Head of Wizarding Law and Magical Justice grumbles, barely opening his eyes to speak. Pippa quirks a brow at her old uncle, previously having believed Phillip Pentangle to be asleep.

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard you speak in a Council meeting,” Pippa notes aloud, intrigued.

Phillip shrugs, eyes still closed. “You have friends there. I’ll be the first to say the ‘someone’ shouldn’t be you, though you’re the only one who’ll be honest about what’s happening there.” Pippa, frankly, doesn’t know whether to be insulted or not. Phillip shrugs again. “Egbert, send witches. We wizards have no business there.”

“I agree with that assessment,” Mordreth is quick to say. However, unlike Phillip’s genuine belief, Pippa is very well aware that her friend has no inclination to actually bother going anywhere but home, so she rolls her eyes at his words. Mordreth actually winks at her, the cheeky bastard.

“I’ll be going anyway,” Ursula claims. “I can act as investigator.”

Phillip snorts. “Don’t send her _either._ ”

The Grand Wizard grumbles, “Old friend, keep your trap shut unless you can provide a reason why not.”

“Alright,” Phillip leans forwards, looking like he isn’t taking a nap for once. “As we _are_ the Magic Council, we should be going ourselves. We’ve already rules out little under half the Council and one of the help. So, being a hypocrite, I’ll say send both Pippa _and_ Ursula, because the other option is sending Dorcas-”

“No chance, mate,” Dorcas Svallawhisp, Head of Witching Law and Guild Mistress, shakes her head.

“-or Lavinia and no offence, Lav, but you’ve never stepped foot in an educational institute and I don’t think you ever will.”

“I’m a chanting teacher, Phillip,” Lavinia replies.

“I know,” Phillip says calmly. “Let me rephrase. You’re never going to step foot in Cackle’s Academy because you’re a scared mouse of a woman and I think you’d start crying as soon as something started going wrong.”

“Uncle Phillip!” Pippa gasps, Egbert quickly telling the old man off as Lavinia gets to her feet, looking about ready to curse his backside off. Similarly, Mordreth picks up his staff and above, the sky starts to rumble ominously. Meanwhile, Dorcas rolls her eyes at the whole affair.

“Enough!” she shouts, silencing the room with a bellow. Even the birds quiet. “I agree with Phillip about sending Pentangle the Younger and Hallow, but only if Pentangle has seniority. She’s a councilmember, Hallow is not.”

“Agreed,” Mordreth mutters darkly, letting Dorcas pull him by his robe back to his seat. “We shouldn’t squabble.”

“I should keep my mouth shut,” Phillip leans back in his chair again.

“I should _replace_ you,” the Grand Wizard then says. “We turn to a vote. Majority goes. If there is a tie, Ursula Hallow shall be the deciding vote.”

“That’s not right,” Lavinia immediately murmurs. “Egbert, I know she’s a colleague, but Ursula was demoted for a reason. The right path would be for you to abstain, as it has been since the Magic Council began.”

Egbert grumbles and Pippa wants to poke his eyes out, but she’s more interested in the vote.

“I’ll go with Mistress Hallow,” Pippa votes positively.

“Nope,” Phillip mutters.

“Let them go,” Mordreth states.

“Aye,” Dorcas says.

“…aye,” Lavinia whispers, to the Grand Wizard’s sigh.

“The majority says aye. Ms Pentangle, Mistress Hallow, go to Cackle’s tomorrow morning, see what in Merlin Ambrosius’ name is going on and report back next week. Pentangle-”

Phillip lifts his head.

“…the Younger,” Egbert clarifies, to Phillip’s disgruntlement. “If necessary, you hereby have permission to temporarily close the school and send the students home under an emergency evacuation procedure of your choice.”

Pippa purses her lips, “Yes, Grand Wizard.”

“Good. This meeting is adjourned.”

* * *

They arrive at Cackle’s early Friday morning. The sun hasn’t warmed the air yet and Pippa regrets wearing heels – but they give her some extra height over Ursula, so she doesn’t feel _too_ regretful. Once they land, silent and to no apparent fanfare, Pippa feels the uneasy magic of the school. It’s different, scattered. It feels exactly like something that has had its heart taken from it, the new magic settling over it like an invisible fog rather than sinking into it like heat from a fireplace.

“There’s something wrong,” she says, feeling a sense of foreboding.

“The Founding Stone was drained,” Ursula scoffs weakly, but it’s clear that the other witch feels it too. Pippa knows it isn’t as bad for her, to tell the truth – Pippa, as a Headmistress with her own school and hidden Founding Stone, is extra sensitive to these things.

They walk the gravel path, setting their broomsticks on the guest rack by the stairs. When they enter, the entrance hall is barren of people. Pippa can’t hear much at all – a strange fate for a school that should be bursting with young witches, full of potential.

Then-

Magic, familiar and _thin_ , reaches out, brushing against them, the intruders. Hecate appears a moment later in front of them.

“…Pippa, Mistress Hallow,” Hecate greets, tense. There are shadows under her eyes and her hands shake. Pippa doesn’t hesitate before stepping forwards, wrapping her arms around the other woman. It’s difficult and if Ursula wasn’t right behind her, Pippa would have transferred Hecate to her quarters just to lie her down – her magic is weak and it’s barely there at all. Pippa can barely register Hecate as _Hecate_ , the dissonance so jarring and _strange._

Hecate clutches her in turn, soaking in the excess magic Pippa puts out as a fully-grown woman. _Is this what it’s like for both her and Ada? What about the children? What about Esmerelda Hallow? She’s already had her first majority, if the effects are similar…_

“Where are the students?” Ursula questions. Pippa reluctantly pulls away from Hecate, but takes her hand in exchange, not bothering to hide the action from the third witch.

“You have come at an auspicious time,” Hecate clears her throat. “Yesterday, there were five students ill. Now, there are twenty. I do not know their malady and the usual diagnostic spells are…not within my grasp. Dimity has been checking for me, as well as Miss Tapioca, where possible. Ada is bed-ridden.”

Pippa gasps, “And there’s nothing that helped?”

“What about my girls?” Ursula demands, “Are they ill, too?”

“They are, yes,” Hecate answers Ursula’s question first, “but they are on my watchlist for another reason. Three of the five girls who fell ill yesterday were frozen by the Frost. Ada, similarly, was already ill yesterday. The may have been more susceptible or maybe even the origin.”

“What about you, Hiccup?” Pippa questions her, demanding her attention. Their eyes meet and for a moment, Hecate looks confused, before it disappears and she shakes her head.

“I am not ill. I am merely… _lacking_ magic. Many of my usual habits are impossible without magic. I suspect that it may also be the reason I am not ill,” she deduces. “First year girls have more power than I do, currently.”

 _Poor Hecate,_ Pippa squeezes her hand. “And the school’s unstable. You can’t draw magic from it, either.”

“The proper thing to do would be get you somewhere that isn’t… _here_ ,” Ursula grimaces, “but we don’t want you spreading this illness. Us, either.”

“Yes,” Pippa agrees, “Mistress Hallow, please send a notice to the Magic Council. Cackle’s is hereby under a minor quarantine. No-one leaves and only healers can enter until I give the word.”

“You’re staying?” Hecate startles.

“We have to. You must be addled,” Ursula steps further into the school, maglet in hand. Mere moments later, it chimes, indicating a sent message. “I’m going to visit my girls, if you have no objections, Miss Pentangle.”

“No, go, go,” Pippa encourages her, understanding how worried she might be. Even now, Pippa worries for her own students – what happens when she lifts the quarantine? What if the illness has a long contagious period and Pippa infects her own charges? _I’m not leaving Cackle’s any time soon._ At her words, Ursula transfers away, leaving her alone with Hecate.

“…there are- there are guest quarters,” Hecate offers, stuttering slightly.

“You’re not going to offer your own?” Pippa jokes, but it falls slightly flat and Hecate shivers, eyes locked on her. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“No- no, I have a guest room,” Hecate pauses, “You’re welcome to it, Pippa, if you wish it.”

“Thank-you,” Pippa squeezes her hand again, before trailing her fingers up to her wrist, gentle, with a wish to be closer. That ache she always associated with Hecate has softened into something deep and heartfelt, something Pippa easily identifies as _love_. She has always loved Hecate and would have gladly lived the rest of her life with this witch.

Hecate, to her surprise, takes her hand again, entwining their fingers and tangling them together. Pippa swallows and she registers that _emptiness_ again, how Hecate is sucking in any available magic from static sources. She wants to give her magic, like how she gave it to Mildred – but there is an acute possibility that if she did, Hecate could become susceptible to this illness being passed around.

“If you start to feel anything odd,” Hecate starts suddenly, “you need to tell me. The symptoms come quickly, after a period of incubation. Sniffling, congestion-”

“I’ll watch out for it,” Pippa winces.

“The girls in question have all been physically ill at least once,” Hecate warns, “and generally feel unwell. All have voluntarily confined themselves to their beds in exhaustion.”

“What about those who were frozen, like you?” Pippa queries, shuffling even closer to her friend. Hecate almost leans forwards to match her, not enough space for another person to stand between them. “Should we watch over them in person?”

Hecate shakes her head, more in neutrality than disagreement. “Dimity and Miss Tapioca, along with myself, are assigned to different student sleeping quarters. Gwen is staying away from everyone, including Algernon in case he becomes infectious.”

“A good idea,” Pippa agrees. It’s well-known that witching maladies don’t always exhibit physically in wizards and vice versa, using them as contagion devices instead. Miss Bat staying away from him as well as the girls is just common sense – the woman is nearing a hundred and twenty, the poor dear. Catching any sort of illness at her age could spell disaster. “And we’re sure nothing _else_ happened between now and the Founding Stone being restored?”

Hecate tenses, “Nothing that has been reported. Though…” she falls silent, mind obviously whirling. “The first girls to fall ill were the second years. The day before yesterday, each year-group was working in different areas around Cackle’s. The second years were assigned to rescue paperwork and other miscellaneous items from the depths of the castle, where the water had drained away. If they stumbled upon something hidden away, they might not have known.”

“A plausible explanation,” Pippa nods. “Can we ask them? Are they able to recall, do you think?”

Hecate purses her lips before drawing away from her, taking her hand and pulling Pippa towards the stairwell. “Follow me.”

It’s odd to walk with Hecate – Hecate, who was always so well-known in school for transferring all over the place. Her energy and power had been the envy of some girls, the object of other’s schoolyard affections. Now, she walks in a disjointed fashion, one that had previously been noted in Pippa’s mind but only as of this moment becomes a major concern.

“Hecate,” she starts cautiously as they climb the stairs slowly, _too_ slowly, “your walk…it’s…”

Hecate glances at her and oddly enough, there’s a smile on her face. “Broomstick injury. After leaving Mistress Broomhead’s apprenticeship, I took up skyball professionally.”

Pippa’s eyes widen. “ _Really?_ I- I mean, you were brilliant at school, _captain_ of the school team-”

“It was a hobby that distracted me,” Hecate looks away, smile fading. “Another team was playing dirty. Well, their coach was. She tampered with my broom and at the end of the game when I was in the middle of a high-speed dive, she de-magicked my broom. You can probably imagine what happened afterwards.”

The other witch can and is _horrified_ by the thought. She can just imagine a young, adult Hecate flying towards the ground with her long sports braid whipping out behind her in the wind, trusting in the broom beneath her with her life – though she can’t help but think of her as a teenager, the same _gorgeous_ way she looked in the dark purple and violet striped jumper of Amulet’s Academy and trousers, speeding at a vertical angle towards the falling point marker.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Pippa breathes, her memory warping in real-time as she imagines the crash, but luckily, unable to conjure the injuries that Hecate would gain from smashing face first into the ground at top speed.

“I was bedridden for two years – half as long as my career in skyball,” Hecate replies in a calm voice. “When I first started walking again, I was twenty-eight. That’s when I began to use my potions mastery properly, becoming a teacher…”

They arrive on the second floor, heading down towards another set of stairs. Pippa wants to ask where they’re going, so she can transfer them, but Hecate stops half-way down the corridor to knock on a door emblazoned with a glittery paper namecard – _ENID NIGHTSHADE, DEMON CHILD_. Pippa remembers meeting her the last time she was here, briefly and recalls her name on the report.

“She helped you transfer out of Cackle’s when you were trapped,” Pippa says softly, causing Hecate to pause before she nods, opening the door. Inside, Enid is fast asleep in her bed, face pale and clammy.

“Miss Nightshade,” Hecate approaches her bedside, leaning over to pat her shoulder. “Miss Nightshade?”

“Enid?” Pippa tries tentatively. The girl doesn’t wake. Slowly beginning to frown, Pippa enters the room more, approaching her other side. “Enid?” she shakes her arm before stroking her cheek.

“Pippa, check for a curse,” Hecate instructs her lowly, Pippa looking up sharply.

“You think this is a curse? But you said they were _ill._ ”

“I did,” Hecate replies, grim. She stands up straight, waiting and Pippa wastes no time, raising her arms over the girl and reaching out with her magic.

It manifests slowly, falling downwards in a pink cloud, sinking into her prone form. Almost immediately, Pippa feels a _cold_ , deep inside her chest that makes her gasp as the pink magic bursts out of her – but now, it is a freezing, icy blue. Frost covers her bedsheets and her cat meows, batting at her mistress’ head. _A curse,_ Pippa thinks, shivering. A moment later, the frost begins to melt, the magic dissipating.

“This is an effect of being frozen,” Hecate states. “We must determine if the illness is part of it and if the other girls are similarly cursed to sleep.”

“Shouldn’t we try to wake her first?” Pippa questions, knowing that the age-old remedy for dark sleeping curses is a kiss from one who truly loves you. All they’d need to do is have her parents come and fret over her.

“Enid was one of the first to fall ill – but not the _first,_ ” Hecate says, voice vaguely urgent as she heads towards the door. “Ada and Maud Spellbody complained to me earlier-”

Pippa, already on Hecate’s tail, nearly stumbles into her as she stops in place, another figure making themselves known.

“Hecate! What’s going on?” Dimity exclaims, “Why have I got Ursula Hallow telling me off for letting her children get ill?”

“Miss Drill,” Pippa steps around Hecate to gain her attention, “Forgive Mistress Hallow for her rudeness. Unfortunately, we have bigger matters to deal with.”

“Check on Ada,” Hecate orders her crisply. “Enid Nightshade has fallen into a cursed enchanted sleep. We have determined that it is an effect of being frozen. Once you’ve checked on Ada, see Dawn Merryweather. She was one of the earliest to _tap out,_ as you might say, but also one of the first so who were not frozen.”

“Right,” Dimity’s eyes widen, “Got it. Miss Cackle, Dawn Merryweather – I’ll see to the girls in the other building, get Miss Tapioca on high-alert.”

“Indeed. Thank-you, Dimity,” Hecate offers, before Dimity – unusual for her, but necessary in this moment – transfers away. Hecate looks back to Pippa. “Now to Maud Spellbody. Then, we will check on the rest of this corridor and Mildred Hubble, in her tower room.”

“Lead the way,” Pippa nods, taking the moment to shut Enid’s door to give the comatose girl a semblance of privacy.

They go to Maud’s room. Almost immediately, before they even open the door, Pippa feels something is wrong. She stops Hecate from touching the handle, using magic to open it. A _ghastly_ heat immediately emits from the crack, something Pippa recognises as the warning sign it is – but she keeps opening the door, needing visual confirmation. Hecate’s face twists.

“What-”

Pippa shuts the door, grim. Maud had been a shining golden colour, skin flaking away like scales. The sun didn’t shine through her window to illuminate the room, but the candles did a good enough job. Pippa knows this is wrong, that this _shouldn’t_ be happening and it bereaves her to know that the poor girl is going through this.

“Good thing you have a wizard on staff,” she says quietly. “Dragon pox. We can’t go in there, Hecate. That illness is a tier _five_ contagious disease for witches. Algernon should know the right remedies, if he’s a proper wizard.”

“Won’t he be infected, too?” Hecate asks, the two of them still standing there in shock. “The last outbreak of witching dragon pox…”

“…was at Pentangle’s. The second major witching wizard’s malady outbreak _ever_ ,” Pippa confirms, waving her hand. A red banner of paint appears across the door, a golden _5_ in the middle, shimmering. “I was nearly shut down. Algernon won’t be harmed, so long as he’s had it before. If he hasn’t, then I have wizard friends who can help.”

Hecate nods silently, before leading her onto the other girls’ rooms. There are four uninfected girls in the corridor and Ethel Hallow, supposedly, but she’s not in her room.

“She’s infected and staying with her sisters,” Hecate informs her. “Upstairs.”

“Alright,” Pippa says, eyeing the stairwell up to Mildred’s tower room. “I can go myself, if you want to head towards them. Stairs don’t look like they agree with you.”

“Please don’t be offended when I take you up on that offer,” Hecate says, but her gaze lingers on the stairwell. “Make sure she’s doing well.”

“I promise, I will,” Pippa reaches out, resting a hand on Hecate’s elbow. Hecate gives her a small, fleeting smile before retreating. Once she’s out of sight, Pippa heads upwards, towards Mildred’s drafty tower dorm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada worries a little too much, but perhaps there are some things that need to be addressed.

Pendle tries to comfort her. He brushes up against her legs and Ada smiles sadly at him, thankful for his company. Tugging her dressing gown tighter around her waist, Ada walks out of her room, using a secret passageway beside her office to get to the second floor of the west wing.

 _I must check on my girls,_ she thinks stubbornly, ignoring the ache in her back and the tickle in her throat. Ada feels needlessly old and weary. _I’m only sixty-one._

Pendle meows at a noise, one that Ada frowns at and recognises as an argument. Approaching what she recognises as Esmerelda Hallow’s room, she cranes her ears, trying to hear the subject of discussion.

“ _Ethel, stop talking!_ ” an unfamiliar witch snaps loudly, before Ethel Hallow’s voice rises enough in volume for Ada to hear.

“ _-never spend time with me! You left me behind last summer when you went to visit Grandfather! I was alone in the manor for weeks! It was scary and- and-_ ” Slightly alarmed, Ada forgets she’s not at maximum power as she automatically pulls a recording spell into existence, the drain giving her a full-body shiver. It is her duty to keep the girls safe, however and as headmistress of Cackle’s, she has the right of it to record any conversation she’s witness to.

 _I am definitely witness to this,_ Ada thinks to herself in a convincing manner, knowing she _is_ sidestepping some regulations, here. _There’s…only a door between us. Not even a privacy spell._ Leaving any child alone at home for more than a few hours is cause for concern – if Ada has to report this, they might begrudge her slippery methods, but the end result, the welfare of the child, should be top priority.

“ _You were in trouble, you were grounded, of **course** I wasn’t going to take you to see him,_ ” the other witch grounds out, volume still rising. Ada has the sudden realisation that this is Ursula Hallow. When had _she_ arrived? “ _When you behave, you get to see your grandfather!_ ”

“ _Mum,_ ” a quieter voice interrupts – Esme. Ada has to strain to hear now, on the edge of propriety as she leans closer to the door. “ _I’m- I’m- oh, forget it. I don’t think you’re right. Ethel’s a child and she’s right, you shouldn’t have left her behind this summer._ ”

“ _Esme, your sister’s behaviour was shameful and I’m the parent. What I say, goes._ ”

“ _You’re a terrible mother._ ”

Ada blinks rapidly. She can’t be sure what she just heard was correct. Esmerelda Hallow, the brightest young witch Ada has seen in at _least_ five years, calling her mother terrible? At this point, Ada raises her hand to knock on the door, but stops herself when she hears Ursula’s reply.

“ _And you’re a terrible daughter. Magic is **everything** and you were going to throw away your only chance at having it back? If Sybil hadn’t been in danger, you’d still be mundane – magic-less and worthless. Do you know how hard it was for me to have people come up and give their condolences? To sneer and make faces at me behind my back because one of my children, whose accomplishments might have actually gotten her somewhere, willingly gave up her magic to a mad-witch?_ ”

Silence.

“ _Now you’re quiet,_ ” Ursula scoffs and deep in Ada’s gut, she feels the stirrings of a great beast. It rises – angry and wreathed in smoke like a dragon. When Ada opens the door, not bothering to knock, the handle is crushed in her grip, her magic sparking outwith her own skin.

The Hallow children are in Esme’s bed together, Sybil curled up between Esme and the wall with Ethel at the other end, clutching a cauldron in her lap. Ursula, prim and pristine, stands in the middle of the room, turning around at Ada’s entry.

“Well met, Mistress Hallow,” Ada glares at the younger woman, who stiffens as Ada stops the flow of the recording. She summons a glass bottle from Hecate’s store-room, the silver sounds floating downwards into it, the cork going on easily. Ada banishes the recording to her office, into a drawer in her desk that can only by opened by her. “I’ll assume you’re here for Esme.”

“Miss Cackle. Actually, I am here with Miss Pentangle to confirm your report,” Ursula replies haughtily, but there’s a faint tremor at the end of her sentence, her worry over what Ada just heard clear. “We’ve agreed with Miss Hardbroom to quarantine the school until all is said and done.”

“I see,” Ada replies flatly. “A word, if you will.”

Ursula walks out of the room past her into the corridor. Before she’s even turned to check if Ada follows, she starts to speak – Ada closing the door on her, locking it from the inside. Sybil whimpers slightly.

“Why would she say that?” Sybil hiccoughs, tiny voice afraid and more than a little shaken. “Esme, why would Mother be so horrible?”

“Some people aren’t meant to be parents,” Ada answers for Esmerelda, approaching the three. “How are we doing? Feeling any better?”

“Not really,” Ethel mutters, barely audible as she looks down into her cauldron. Ada puts a hand on her shoulder, feeling that beast inside her disappearing back down into the depths of herself. The adrenaline fades and Ada feels simply _exhausted_ , magic wanting to claim her for sleep so it can regenerate properly.

“My head hurts,” Sybil sniffs. “I hate being ill.”

“I think everyone does,” Ada nods.

“Miss Cackle,” Esme addresses her with a clogged nose, sniffing heavily, “Why did Mother say we’re being quarantined?”

Ada doesn’t know, but she can guess. “Too many girls are becoming ill and we don’t know what with.”

“Are we going to die?” Sybil squeaks.

“Of course not,” Ethel mutters dimly, rolling her eyes. “We’re not _that_ ill. Goddess, you’re stupid, sometimes, Sybil.”

“Ah, now Ethel,” Ada cuts her off, “don’t be mean to your sister; and no, not likely, Sybil. Don’t you worry your head over it. I’m sure things will clear themselves up soon.” There’s a long moment before she next speaks, careful and hesitant. “Girls, I’m not quite sure how to ask this, but…but is your mother always like that?”

“Yes,” Ethel says, mulish.

“No,” Sybil then says, “not- not usually.”

“Actually, she is,” Esme then corrects her youngest sister. “She’s just not- just not usually that _honest_ about it.”

“And what’s this about leaving you at home over the summer?” Ada asks Ethel, concerned.

Ethel grips her cauldron tighter. “She left me behind. They all did.” Ethel sends a nasty look at Esme and Sybil, then, her sisters looking away from her in guilt. “Mother said I wasn’t allowed to go see Grandfather and she left me. Father agreed with her. I was alone in the manor and she’d mirror-call me at night to tell me to go to bed. I’d plead for her to come get me or come home, but she _wouldn’t!_ ”

Ethel throws her cauldron away, but immediately regrets the movement, turning a sickly green colour. Esme is quick to scramble out of bed to get it, putting it back into her sisters lap before she can throw up. Ada rubs her back, feeling an odd tingling that makes her draw away faster than she would, usually.

“We look after each other,” Sybil mumbles loud enough for her to hear. “But only when we’re sick.”

“It’s a coven-bond between blood,” Esme explains. Ada immediately understands – it was something she shared with Agatha before her sister was sent away.

“I’ll leave you be, then,” Ada says, patting Ethel’s shoulder, knowing their coven bond would help them get better more than her presence could. Turning to the door, Ada internally braces herself for meeting the Hallow matriarch again, but when she unlocks it and opens it, Ursula is nowhere to be found.

“Oh,” Ada frowns, wondering where the other witch has gone. Shutting the door behind her, Ada _also_ wonders where Miss Pentangle had gotten to. Her lip twitches.

_Maybe I should check Hecate’s quarters._

“Miss Cackle, oh, _there_ you are,” Dimity scoots around the corner, “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Dimity,” Ada greets, her throat choosing the worst time to tickle. Coughing into her closer fist, Ada internally sighs as Dimity takes her arm.

“Back to bed with you,” the PE teacher scolds gently. “You’re ill, Miss Cackle. You shouldn’t be walking around.”

Dimity transfers them both to Ada’s quarters and despite wanting to see her girls, Ada feels a swell of contentment upon seeing her bed, the flowery covers a siren-call.

“…maybe I could afford to lie down, just for a little bit,” Ada gives in, letting Dimity fuss over her, tucking her in.

“Despite everything,” Dimity confides after she’s got the covers up to her chin, “it _is_ good to see you healthy.” There’s a long moment where Ada thinks Dimity is going to say something, but instead, she just gives her a short smile and uses a little bit of magic to douse the fire, a few sparse candles her only light. “Rest up, Ada. I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Thank-you, Dimity,” Ada expresses her gratitude, watching her colleague transfer away in a turquoise cloud. Feeling her familiar nearby, Ada chuckles at Pendle as he comes out from under the bed, jumping up to lie by her side. Her hand strokes his soft head and she takes off her glasses, putting them on her bedside table. “Let’s have a nap, shall we, my dear?”

Pendle meows and Ada lets her weary body _rest._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (long chapter to come after this - sorry, I just like separating POVs in this fic, so you got the Ada update and this particular plot-relevant update, too!)

The moment that her dearest of friends showed Hecate her file, it felt like a knife was wrenched through her heart.

Her first thought was certainly of Pippa – of their renewed relationship since she abandoned her, thirty-three years ago. They’d mirror-talked once a week regularly since the Spelling Bee and Hecate visited Pippa at Pentangle’s every so often to play chess, drink honeyed tea and decline eating sugary, pink donuts. Over the holidays, Hecate had even had Pippa over for Midsummer for lunch, after Pippa’s first attendance at the Midsummer International Conglomerate meeting that morning and before their separate afternoon engagements – the decadent Pentangle Midsummer party that later splashed across dozens of glamwitch magazines and the far more traditional, family-orientated Hardbroom celebrations. Hecate met with all thirty-two of her nieces and nephews that evening.

 _Pippa can’t know,_ is her first thought when she understands what is written in front of her. _Phyllis Rosewynn Pentangle_ is written like Pippa’s signature in cursive with a heart over the _‘i’_ in _Phyllis_ – Hecate can clearly see it written in sparkling pink, if it were any other document. _Pippa can’t know we’re married by magic._

Then, horribly, second: she feels betrayal. Terrible thoughts fill her head, but this is _Ada_ and Ada would _never_ joke like this.

Ada confirmed that it was something magic believed, that magic had confirmed, somehow. Hecate found it hard to believe, still. Intellectually, she knows that the records will be right, that sometimes they can know things that even the witches themselves don’t know. Hecate can’t remember ever marrying Pippa though, not in the last year and _certainly_ not when they were in school.

There was so much to think of – and then, the next day, she came to the school. Hecate can’t think of it even now without blushing. _Married to Pippa, such a preposterous notion…_ but her heart aches for it. It’s a feeling she tries to keep caged, having not seen anything from Pippa that would tell Hecate she reciprocated her feelings.

 _I am doomed to love this woman,_ she thinks in sorrow. _Pippa shall never love me back in the same way!_

It doesn’t help her infatuation – her unrequited, unreciprocated romance – that Pippa gasps and looks near enough to crying that Hecate wants to apologise, when Hecate tells her about the Sabotage. It had happened years ago and yet, Pippa is empathetic to her plight. It’s more than Dimity has ever shown – though sometimes, Hecate thinks that the infamous _Star of the Sky_ never knew much of the nastier gossip, especially when she talks about the professional sports scene in that nostalgic, beloved tone…

Hecate leaves Pippa behind to go to Mildred, ascending the flight of stairs slowly and with an ever-present feeling of trepidation. Hecate hasn’t had to take the stairs manually in years – it scares her and every moment, she feels like she’s going to tip sideways. She has to focus on where she places her feet, how she balances and how far forwards to lean – backwards, too, it turns out when she nearly leans so far forwards she falls.

 _No,_ she thinks as she falls, banging her elbow and landing on her knees. She breathes sharply inwards, terrified that she won’t be able to get back up or worse, that someone shall _see._ Hecate doesn’t look up though, or around. _If someone sees, I shall never get up._

Somehow, with the help of the nearby wall, Hecate hauls herself to her feet. Her back pangs sharply and her hand grips the stone banister tightly, afraid and hurting.

“Get up,” she orders herself harshly. Her words echo slightly in the silent halls and there’s a shadow from above – Hecate looks up and sees a girl walking calmly down the corridor. “Back to your room!” she barks and the girl jumps, looking around and then down the stairwell, wide eyes meeting Hecate’s.

“Miss Hardbroom?”

“There is a quarantine,” Hecate says, voice abrupt and mutinous. _Beatrice Bunch. How dare she endanger herself?_ “Get back to your room, silly girl.”

“But I wanted to see Sybil-”

“Sybil Hallow is ill,” Hecate interrupts sharply. “Now. Get. Back. To. Your. _Room._ ”

Beatrice swallows, “Yes, Miss Hardbroom.” Then, she scurries away, leaving Hecate alone once more. She endeavours to get up the stairs before another girl walks by, before another girl comes within seconds of _seeing._

The second floor – or third, if you’re Felicity Foxglove – is smaller and more insular than the one below it, with more arched doorways and less windows. Hecate goes to visit Felicity first before she goes to see the Hallow girls, aware that Felicity, having also fallen ill, is in a corridor full of the uninfected.

Before she comes to her door though, Hecate realises something odd. _Dawn Merryweather was with all the Frozen students, bar the Hallows, when they were organising the basement. Perhaps…perhaps they found something._ The thing is, however, that Hecate knows they _did_ find something.

“Mildred Hubble,” she says out loud, recalling those _extremely_ familiar ribbons. Quite obviously, in retrospect, they had been in one of the less-used store-rooms. Hecate had placed her possessions there, then locked them inside – the locking spell either fell apart over time or was washed away in the Frostmelt. _I should check that room,_ she thinks wryly, _and remove my age-old belongings. Maybe I just had an experimental potion in there that exploded and mutated over the years._ If that was the case, then all Hecate would have to do is get a sample and reverse-craft a cure.

Shaking her head, Hecate resolves to question Felicity, hoping that the girl has her faculties, unlike her witching brethren. Hecate is still waiting on Dimity to tell her if Dawn is affected with anything other than illness.

“Miss Foxglove,” she knocks, hearing a cough from inside followed by a short, _come in._ Opening the door, vaguely relieved to see Felicity awake and sitting up, reading through some form of notebook. “How are you faring?”

“I’m…” Felicity’s brow knits together, “Miss Hardbroom. You’re Miss Hardbroom, right? You have to be…” she looks down at her notebook, flipping back dozens of pages, hand finding a folded piece of paper. Hecate narrows her eyes, stepping closer as she unfolds it, pursing her lips tightly at Mildred’s signature style – her own form rendered with pen on paper.

“That is me, yes,” she says crisply. “I have a mind to give you detention.”

“No, please-” Felicity starts, eyes teary, “This is my diary and- and I can’t remember half of the people I’m talking about in it! Who’s Miss Pentangle? Why do I like her so much? She’s all I talk about in my diary, but I don’t know who she is!”

“I beg your pardon?” Hecate utters, stepping closer until Felicity puts her hands over her face, obviously crying.

“I can’t remember what my mommy looks like, I can’t- I can’t remember what she sounds like when she laughs, but I know it’s my favourite sound.” Felicity starts to cry and Hecate doesn’t know what to do. _Amnesia? I don’t understand – has she hit her head?_

Hecate delicately sits down beside Felicity, raising a hesitant hand to her cheek. Felicity’s fingers move slightly, so she can see as Hecate gently checks the back of her head, magic reaching out ever-so-slightly to check for abnormalities. When she finds nothing, Hecate notices something else odd, her hands lowering to touch Felicity’s, drawing them away from her face.

Large eyes, usually a dark brown, are bright, _icy_ blue.

“Oh dear,” Hecate murmurs. “Felicity, this is important and you may not have time to answer me later – what happened the day before yesterday, when you were clearing the store-room?”

Felicity swallows audibly, “When- when everything downstairs was full of water? We were just piling things up, rescuing things. Dawn found a magic mirror and Mildred dropped a full trunk of things in the water-”

“Dawn found a what?” Hecate pinpoints the first thing wrong with that sentence, guessing – correctly – that the trunk Mildred spilt was hers. “What kind of mirror did Dawn find?”

Felicity frowns. “A silver one. It was rather strange – cracked down the middle. It didn’t show our reflections at all,” Felicity’s frown brightens, then, even as she rubs at her sniffly nose. “But that wasn’t the best thing we found! Mildred found someone’s memories in a box! Oh, it was _so_ beautiful. Two witches got married using the Ancient Vows of the Dark Times.” Felicity sighs, her eyes drifting to the side. Her arm rises, hand pointing at a poster on the wall. “One of the witches looked like her. Who’s she? Why’s she on my wall?”

Hecate’s head twists to look at the poster and immediately, she finds herself embarrassed for Pippa, a large picture of what looks to be her thirty year old self at the Millennium Masquerade taped to Felicity’s wall. Then Felicity’s words catch up to her and Hecate finds herself turning back to the young witch, outraged.

“The Ancient Vows? Pippa would never – it’s the epitome of tradition,” Hecate protests, “They don’t even _bind_ people anymore.”

Felicity grins, “Of course they do! That’s how my parents all got married. The newer marriage vows aren’t very inclusive to multiple people. My fathers outnumbered my mom three to one,” Felicity’s smile dims, then and falls away completely. “I still can’t remember her. Can- can I mirror-call home, Miss Hardbroom?”

Hecate wants to say _no,_ but she’s distracted and Felicity needs something to jog her memory. _Seeing her parents will probably help,_ she thinks, making a note in her brain.

“Later,” she promises, “I’ll help you explain to them myself. I need to do some things first, however. Stay in here.”

“What if I forget you told me that?” Felicity asks, responsible _and_ clever.

Hecate stands up slowly, “I’ll deal with it.” She leaves without another word, shutting and then magically locking the door, setting an alarm on it in case Felicity gets creative if she forgets. The drain exhausts her and Hecate just wants her damn magic.

… _wait,_ something stalls in her brain, _Mildred has a box of memories in her possession, ones with Pippa getting married, as preposterous as it sounds. She also has my ribbons._

The leaps in logic aren’t especially hard – but they _are_ unbelievable.

Hecate swallows uneasily.

_Pippa is checking up on her right now. What if Felicity and Mildred have talked about the memories they saw? What if- what if Mildred mentions it to Pippa?_

Something halfway between terror and embarrassment fills her and Hecate resigns herself to checking up on the Hallow girls later, heading back to the staircase. It takes far less time to walk down than it did to go up, though she certainly feels less stable, even wobbling precariously on one of the corner steps. Her heels click on the stone and desperate, she reaches her magic out, not expecting Pippa’s magic to reach right back, for it to pluck her out of existence and pull her into Mildred Hubble’s bedroom.

“Hecate,” Pippa says and her voice is low, serious, “There’s something terribly wrong with Mildred.”

Hecate goes to reply, but her eyes are drawn to two things. First – the golden box in Pippa’s hand, one that makes her mind cry out in warning, the one that is _clearly_ what Felicity spoke of to her just moments before. Second – Mildred, who lies in her bed, pale as ash, her magical signature fluttering on the brink _not there._

It is clear to Hecate which is more important and on the opposite side of Mildred’s bed, across from Pippa, does she kneel.


End file.
